


Sure As Hell Beats The Peach Cobbler

by intotheruins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing Kink, Fluff, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Prompt Fill, References to past abuse (non graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7815178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intotheruins/pseuds/intotheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hexed Castiel shows up in Bobby's living room, covered in weird black gunk. </p>
<p>(or, an excuse to write fluffy Cas/Bobby smut :D)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sure As Hell Beats The Peach Cobbler

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: An injured Cas turns up at the junkyard. He’s pretty much out of it and is covered in something - dirt, goo, cursed stuff - and Bobby has to wash it off of him. Looking for Bobby tenderness and Cas reciprocating. 
> 
> Maya, ~~don't~~ stop posting prompts I can't resist. ;D

Peach cobbler was cursed. It had to be cursed, because every damn time Bobby pulled it from the oven or lifted a steaming hot forkful to his mouth, something happened. The Winchesters called, or something broke into his house, or goddamn angels showed up in his living room looking like...

...shit, looking like real bad shit. Okay, so maybe the cobbler wasn't that important.

Setting his plate down quickly, Bobby strode through the kitchen and made it just in time to catch Castiel by the shoulders. The angel was covered head to toe in some kind of thick black gunk. His eyes were half-closed and hazy, trying desperately to focus on Bobby's face.

“The hell happened?” Bobby snapped. The gunk oozed between his fingers and he winced. “This shit better not be toxic.”

“Not... not to y-you,” Castiel gasped.

He swayed forward, leaning into Bobby's grip. Bobby shook him hard when his eyes slipped closed.

“Hey! Snap outta it and tell me what happened.”

Castiel groaned, but he peeled his eyes open. “Witches. The old world... kind. Not those who d-deal with demons. T-this hex crushes my... my grace. I can't...” Castiel choked out the strangest sound, almost like a sob, and tipped forward so that his forehead was pressed into Bobby's shoulder. “Please. Please, I need...”

“Okay, hey, I gotcha.” Bobby turned him so he could sling an arm around the angel's shoulders. “Tell me what I gotta do.”

“Need to... to wash it o-off.” Castiel moaned, one hand suddenly snapping out to claw at Bobby's shirt. “Please. I wasted too much, too much flying here. The hex won't wear off until... until it's gone.”

That was easy enough. Except for the part where the bathroom with an actual tub was upstairs.

Saying that it was difficult to get Castiel up the stairs was putting it lightly. He had to stop at every step, breathing hard and groaning like each movement caused him a deep pain. They were maybe five up when Bobby bent down and swept an arm under Castiel's knees. He was heavy, heavier than Bobby had expected for someone who only had an inch on him, but the hunter still had plenty of muscle and managed to stagger up the stairs with the angel in his arms.

Undressing Castiel was a bit easier. Bobby kept his touches clinical, even though he suspected the angel wouldn't have the same associations with nudity that so many humans did—so it surprised him when Castiel flushed slightly, just a hint of rose blooming over the patches of clean cheek.

“Closer,” Castiel murmured when Bobby arched an eyebrow. He sucked in a sharp breath and tried again. “I'm closer to this body than... I was. No longer a...” he stopped, breathing too rapidly. Bobby frowned as he watched the angel squeeze his eyes closed, teeth bared in a grimace. “It's mine. It makes me... f-feel. Differently.”

“Ah.” Bobby knelt to undo Castiel's pants. “You sure this is gonna wear off once we get you clean?”

If Castiel appreciated the change in subject, he didn't show it. Or maybe he was just too far gone to show it. “Y-yes. It will take a... while. But yes.”

“Okay then. Brace on my shoulders, gotta get your shoes off.”

Castiel did as requested, planting both hands on Bobby's shoulders and leaning heavily into him. The hunter made quick work of shoes and socks, and the remainder of the angel's clothing. The gunk had sunk through the fabric to soak Castiel's skin. It seemed to sink in deeper when Bobby swiped at some of it with his fingers.

“Sure this is gonna come off?”

Castiel nodded. “It was meant to... to weaken me. Temporary. S-so they could ki--” he stopped, breathed in slowly and shut his eyes again. “Kill me. Dean and Sam stopped them.”

Bobby got to his feet and took Castiel's hands from his shoulders, holding them in his own to help Castiel into the tub. The angel let out a shaky sigh of relief once he was seated, though within seconds of settling he began to shiver hard.

“They okay?” Bobby asked as he pulled the detachable shower head down. He made sure the water was comfortably hot before he turned the spray over Castiel's back. “I'm just gonna get the worst of this off, then I'll fill the tub.”

Castiel nodded. “They are fine. T-they were injured by magic, I managed... to take the worst of it. They'll s-sleep for a while.”

“Good.” Bobby rubbed a hand over Castiel's skin—the gunk wasn't rinsing off as easily as he'd hoped. “Explains why you're here, anyway.”

The shaking was getting worse. Frowning, Bobby turned up the heat just a little.

“I couldn't wait... for them to... to wake,” Castiel agreed.

Yeah, not when he was this bad, and probably made himself worse healing up the boys. “Shut your eyes.”

When he'd complied, Bobby went to work rinsing the goo from the angel's hair and face. It thinned out once it was finally convinced to release its hold, swirling down the drain in gray streaks. Once the worst of it was gone, Bobby replaced the shower head and plugged the drain, filling the tub up to just over Castiel's waist. The shivering eased a little then. The hunter settled down on the floor with a washcloth and started rubbing away the remainder of the gunk as gently as possible—which wasn't too gentle, not with how it clung like the damn stuff had roots.

A few times, the angel winced. Started to lift his hands, but the hex had him so messed up he didn't have the strength to move very far.

“Sorry,” Bobby muttered once, after a particularly violent shudder.

“It's necessary,” Castiel said through gritted teeth. His voice was steadier now, but the shaking wouldn't stop and his eyes were half closed, partially concealing pain and exhaustion.

The water started to cool by the time Castiel was only half clean. Bobby drained and refilled it, a little more shallow this time, and got to work on his legs.

Clinical, he kept reminding himself, keep it clinical, only it turned out to be surprisingly hard. The more gunk he removed, the more Castiel went from pained to simply exhausted, and he was responding to the touch. He kept leaning into it, sighing when Bobby would rub the cloth over a particularly sensitive patch of skin, eyes closed and expression peaceful now that the majority of the hex was removed.

The angel started to sway just as Bobby was scrubbing the gunk from his thighs. Shifting, the hunter braced himself against the tub and slung an arm over Castiel's shoulders, tugging him in until he was leaning against his side.

“Thank you,” Castiel murmured. He rested his head on Bobby's shoulder, dark, wet hair rubbing into his cheek.

“Welcome,” Bobby said gruffly. “Least I can do, since you helped out those idjits.”

When it was time to clean between the angel's legs, Bobby didn't give him any warning. Fortunately, Castiel didn't react much. He just leaned more heavily into Bobby's side.

“You good?” Bobby asked after a moment. It was damn hard to be clinical when he had his hand on another man's junk. Especially when that male body happened to be occupied by an angel—there was just something ridiculously alluring about the thought that Castiel didn't experience this kind of touch in his non-corporeal form.

Just where the hell did _that_ come from? Bobby shook his head, steadfastly ignoring the drag of soft, damp hair against his face. Hadn't had a thought like that since he was a young man, and never for very long, not when his daddy found out and tried to beat the inclination out of his son. Never really worked, of course, but Bobby always kept that part of himself locked away after that. 

And now he had an Angel of the goddamn Lord in his bathtub, who had finally stopped shaking and was... nuzzling at his neck.

Nah. He had to be just adjusting or... nope, he was nuzzling Bobby's damn neck, and there was a hand fisting slowly into his flannel, and the last few swipes of the washcloth ran over a rapidly thickening cock.

Huh.

“You understand what you're doin' right now?” Bobby drawled.

The nose pressed into his throat rubbed little circles along his skin. “Yes,” Castiel replied softly. Still so drained, but obviously better if the grip in his shirt was anything to go by. “It felt good. I'm trying to make you feel good as well. Am I doing it wrong?”

“Nope.” Bobby chuckled quietly, shook his head. “You're doing just fine, but this was just about cleanin' you up.”

There was a pause. Lips just barely brushed beneath his jaw. Bobby shuddered.

“It isn't uncommon for certain situations to evolve, from what I've observed of humanity.” Castiel's voice was still soft, tired but no longer bone-deep exhausted. “And I've been... very curious. Since this body became mine, I haven't been able to control the sensations as I could before.”

Bad idea, bad idea, _bad idea,_ but Bobby was having flashbacks to sixteen years old and staring at Johnny Barton's mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Wondered now, as the angel rolled his head back along Bobby's shoulder, what it would be like to kiss Castiel. He had a nice mouth, lips full and inviting, if a little dry. 

“Is the hex gone?” Bobby asked. It wasn't what he wanted to ask.

Castiel nodded. “I will be fully recovered in a few hours.”

His blue eyes were wide and sincere. The cloth slipped from Bobby's hand.

“Can you walk?” Bobby asked, and shit, he was doing this. The hell was he thinking?

“With help,” Castiel said.

It was a slow process, but eventually Bobby managed to get Castiel dried off and into his room. The angel sank into the mattress with a contented sigh, nuzzling the pillow in the much the same way he'd been nuzzling Bobby. He'd assured the hunter several times as they were working their way down the hall that the pain was gone, along with the hex—it was just that his grace hadn't recovered yet, and the effect on his human form had been heavy.

“You sure you ain't too tired for this?” Bobby asked as he knelt on the bed. He tossed his cap onto the nightstand, but otherwise he was still fully dressed. For now, he intended to stay that way.

Castiel rolled onto his back and spread his legs. He was still hard, balls full and heavy, already drawing up against his body. As Bobby watched, Castiel reached down and cupped them curiously in his palm, gasping and eyes widening at the sensation.

“As long as you're not in a hurry, I will be fine,” Castiel said solemnly. As though this were a very serious matter.

Fuck, maybe it was. Bobby was about to put his hands on a damn angel—aside from the Apocalypse, he couldn't think of anything quite as serious as that.

Once he was lying on his side, Bobby just put a hand on Castiel's chest. Ignored the throb of his erection for now to focus on rubbing over warm skin with his thumb. A part of him was trying to panic, old scars along his back giving a phantom twinge as he slid his hand slowly across Castiel's chest. He shut his eyes, trying to shove the furious and disgusted face of his father back into the hidden corners of his mind.

The old bed frame creaked with sudden movement. Bobby felt the brush of warm lips over his eyelids, the shifting of muscles beneath his hand, before Castiel sank back into the mattress.

“This isn't wrong,” the angel said softly. “God does not frown on love, not matter its form.”

Bobby was torn between irritation at the invasion of his mind and embarrassment over the word 'love,' though he supposed that was exactly what it was to Castiel. He settled for opening his eyes and grumbling, “Stay outta my head.”

“My apologies.” Castiel went briefly still before giving a single nod. “I have shielded your thoughts.”

Good enough. Bobby resumed running his hand over Castiel. He thumbed at a nipple, watched it harden and didn't resist the urge to bend his head and seal his lips around it. The strangeness of a flat chest sent a curl of excitement rippling through him. The pleased sigh Castiel released seconds later only made it better.

He lasted a moment before the uncertainty came back to him, made him sit back. Castiel tilted his head into the pillow.

“You won't be tellin' the boys about this, right?”

“Not if you don't wish me to,” Castiel replied.

“Good. Good.”

Bobby dared to run his hand a little lower, traced a fingertip around the angel's bellybutton. They both started when Castiel let out a choked laugh, his body curling inward defensively.

“Ticklish, huh?” Bobby did it again, grinning when Castiel giggled. He promptly looked completely confused by the sound. “Don't worry, it's involuntary,” Bobby assured him when he actually started to look concerned.

“Ah.” Castiel reached down and grabbed Bobby's hand, stilling the movements. “Before Jimmy went to Heaven, I could control the body's reactions. Now it's... impossible.” He frowned, turned Bobby's hand over to run his fingers along his palm. “What's concerning is that I don't dislike it.”

“It has its benefits,” Bobby agreed.

Castiel smiled and released Bobby's hand, so the hunter went back to his exploration. He skirted around Castiel's straining cock to tease down his thighs, though he watched as it jumped with the close proximity of his touch.

“Is that involuntary, too?” Castiel asked. He touched the head with the tip of his finger and watched curiously as his cock twitched again. “Would it stop if you touched me?”

“I am touchin' you,” Bobby muttered, though he couldn't quite keep down a chuckle.

Rolling his eyes, Castiel reached down and grabbed Bobby's wrist, tugging until his hand was on the angel's cock.

“Grabby bastard.”

Castiel arched one eyebrow. “You were taking too long.”

Bobby laughed then, let the amusement flood in to mix with arousal and drive back all the fear of memories that shouldn't still be this vivid, not after so many years.

The body Castiel now claimed for his own was beautiful—long, strong legs, a little soft around the middle, enough muscle in the arms and shoulders to make Bobby think that Jimmy guy probably worked out at least a few times a week. His cock was long but not too thick, easy for Bobby to wrap his hand around it, rub a thumb over the head.

But it was the angel's face Bobby couldn't take his eyes off of, couldn't stop watching the way his lashes fluttered or how his lips parted around a soft moan. One hand curled into Bobby's shirt, the other clenching into the blanket. His hips jerked weakly into the attention, still too out of it to do much more than take it.

There was something amazing about that. Bobby stroked faster, shoving down another abrupt wave of panic so he could watch Castiel throw his head back. He shook as he came, the cries falling from his lips strangely quietly for how unrestrained they were. Bobby stroked him through it. He watched, fascinated, as Castiel's come pooled on his stomach, more and more of it as the hunter milked out everything the angel could give him. Kept going even after there was nothing left and Castiel began to curl in on himself to escape the oversensitivity.

He lay still after Bobby let him go, eyes wide and stunned, body still wracked with faint tremors.

“C'mere,” Bobby grunted, tugging until the angel rolled onto his side and curled into him. “You okay?”

There was that nuzzling again, right under Bobby's jaw this time. “Very,” the angel murmured. “Thank you. Let me return the favor.”

Bobby caught the hand wandering south and pressed it back between them. “Nah. Maybe when you're recovered. I'm good for now.”

He expected a protest, and was surprised when instead he received a loud snore. Huh. That hex must have been even worse than Bobby thought.

For a long moment, the hunter was at war with himself. Did he let the returning panic consume him, or did he shove it aside and enjoy this for as long as he was able?

In the end, he drew Castiel a little closer, and set his chin in the angel's soft hair. It was easy to ignore the ache of his cock and drift off to sleep—maybe Castiel really would return the favor later, or maybe not. Maybe he'd be fully recovered and return to check on the brothers.

Either way, it sure as hell beat the peach cobbler.

 


End file.
